


Breathe

by orphan_account



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Another Michael In The Bathroom AU, Anxiety, Boy friends, Don’t Fight Me On This, Fluff, Jake Broke His Legs Saving Michael, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor burns, Oh Goodie, Trans Michael, self-hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He never really had to remind himself to breathe on his own before. When he did need to be reminded to breathe, Jeremy was the one who reminded him. Even now, he heard Jeremy’s voice telling him to breathe. Stay calm. Stay alive. It’ll be ok.It was absolutely not ok.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow it had a happy ending???? I promise guys

__

_Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. Are you breathing? Remember to breathe._ He never really had to remind himself to breathe on his own before. When he did need to be reminded to breathe, Jeremy was the one who reminded him. Even nnow, he heard Jeremy’s voice telling him to breathe. _Stay calm. Stay alive. It’ll be ok._

It was absolutely not ok.

He was going to die in a fire. Alone and forgotten. Strangled by smoke coming up from the cracks under the door and his binder, which seemed to wrap tighter around his chest every time he took a breath. But breathing was so important. Right? Or was he just letting the smoke into his lungs quicker? He held his breath for a second and rushed to the door, touching the handle lightly to see if it was warm. As soon as his flesh touched the knob, he yelped in pain and flew away.

_Fuck. I’m fucked._

Unconsciously, he whimpered, knowing that no one could hear him, and franticly looked around the room in a panic. His eyes passed a window above the toilet at least ten times before he registered the fact that it was a window. A widow with a lock that he could easily open. Or glass he could easily break. He quickly flung himself to it, kneeling on the toilet lid. Without thinking, Michael hit the wall with the hand burnt by the door knob and started to yell in pain, only to be cut short by serval coughs, seeming to take all the breath out of him.

Suddenly, he found it hard to stand and his vision blurred. He crumbled in pain, making a weak fist with his left un-burnt hand and punching at the window. His knees slipped off the lid and he fell with them, hitting the side of the bathtub with his side, making his forehead hit the wall. His glasses tilted on his head and cracked, but he couldn’t see the damage they held. Only hear the sound. His eyes were glued shut. Though the pain was immense, he could barely move a muscle.

His right arm was draped on the toilet lid, and his left arm was erect above his head, which he let be pressed against the cold wall. He could feel the blood oozing out of an opening in his head, and with nowhere to go, rub above the wound. His breaths were slow. So slow. Too slow. His knees were too weak to even think about standing, and throbbed every time he did. 

When he found the strength to open his eyes, he was greeted with a blood covered wall and two, hot tears falling down his face at the same time. It seemed to stop a second, then more followed. He didn’t make a sound, no matter how much he wanted to cry out. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to leave.

_“Jeremy,” Michael said with a pain in his voice. His breathing hitched and he could do nothing but look directly at the floor. Tears might have welled up in his eyes, but he didn’t notice them. “I want to die,”_

_The silence was sickening. Jeremy stared at him with wide eyes filled with his own tears. It took four seconds of listening to Michael’s pained breathing and Jeremy’s lack of breathing, and Jeremy started to smile, flinging himself onto Michael. Swearing to himself, then and there, he would never let go. “Me too,”_

_Both boys started to cry without sound._

He choked out a sob, remembering Jeremy, who stared straight into his eyes, and called him a _loser._ But deep down, Michael knew it wasn’t his fault. And even if it was, no matter how much Jeremy hated him, he wouldn’t hate Jeremy. He wouldn’t leave Jeremy _._ He wanted to be mad at something, but he couldn’t. Instead, with all he had, he mustered one last pathetic cry and closed his eyes.

And someone kicked at the door.

...

And then once again. And someone he didn’t recognize yelled. In pain or at Michael, he didn’t know. He yelled. Michael painfully pushed down a lump in his burned throat, trying to call out again, but all that came out was a weak moan. And that was good enough.

The door fell down and the mystery person yelled more. Michael couldn’t understand what he was saying exactly, but the next thing he knew, his right arm was being thrown off the seat and he saw a pair of feet climb on top. A window shattered and the teen yelled again, offering his red and scratched hand to Michael. He weakly looked up, vaguely remembering the teen. He was too tired to put a name to a face. Or do anything.

“We don’t have all fucking day!” The boy yelled, picking Michael up under his arms. He was surprisingly strong. He turned Michael towards him, pulling him closer, burring his face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around Michael’s back, and he could feel himself being lifted up and climbing down before falling onto the ground.

As they hit, Michael’s ears started ringing but he could clearly hear sirens and yelling. Four seconds passed and the ringing in his ears grew, but his body was numbed. His breathing was slow, but was slowly starting to pick up pace. He suddenly felt two hands under his stomach roughly push him off the boy who helped him out of the window, but he didn’t open his eyes to see who it was.

He yelled more but all Michael could make out was: “Get the fuck off him, you fucking queer!” The boy had a slight lisp, which made him harder to understand. Once Michael’s back hit the ground, he quickly snapped up and his eyes shot open, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest as he coughed again. Harder. His throat was burning. It was harder to breathe.

Michael’s thoughts flew from his binder to his moms to the fire. Then he stopped. His eyes widened and he pushed himself off the ground, taking several minutes to stand up straight. _Jeremy._ He sickened at the mere thought. He stumbled backward and looked around himself to see teens in blankets and being talked to by the police, or angry parents driving teens home or teens driving themselves. His eyes darted to each one of them what seemed like a million times.

He didn’t know any of them by name. All he knew was that none of them where Jeremy. He stumbled away, in the direction of his best friend’s house. No. To Jeremy’s house. Were they best friends? He stopped, thought for a minute, then ran with his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. His sides were hurting tremendously and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. But he had to see him. Or Mr. Heere. He had to do _something._

Shoes hitting the sidewalk were the only noises Michael could focus on as he looked from house to house, turning corners, watching signs, before he closed his eyes and time seemed to pass, because when he reopened them, there he was. The car was in the driveway and the lights were on. He stopped, staring through the window at the light. He could ignore the pain. The lights were on. Someone was home. He cracked a small grin before racing to the front door, not even bothering to knock. He shakingly rested his brunt hand on the handle, wincing in pain as he did so, but pushing through it to pull the door open without a sound.      

Upon seeing the familiar room, Michael could swear that he stopped breathing. He had seen the living room many times. He practically _lived_ in Jeremy’s house. Not that he doesn’t like living with his moms, he loves it. The two houses were homes to both of the boys. One week they would be at Michael’s, and one week they would be at Jeremy’s, and that’s the way it always was.

Until now.

A shiver ran over Michael, hurting every part of his body and he winced in pain, realizing how damaged he was. But he carried on. He didn’t need to wander far. Jeremy was curled up in the corner of the kitchen, between the cabinets underneath the counter that held a dirty pot waiting to be washed. When Michael stepped closer, ever emotion he had been feeling up to this moment was replaced with anger. He was safe. He was alive. He was at home.

He was...mumbling. Michael stopped walking towards him and knelt in front of him, two feet away with a tilted head and a concerned expression. Just like that, anger washed away. Jeremy didn’t move, except for shaking his head that was tucked in his arms slightly. Michael didn’t even know if he saw Jeremy breathing. He fought the lump in his throat back down and spoke quietly after a few seconds. “Jeremy?”

Jeremy didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. After four or five seconds, although it felt like a lifetime, Michael decided to try again, but Jeremy’s mumbles became louder. “You knew it was going to happen...”

“Jere?” He tried again.

Jeremy scoffed. A few second of silence passed. “Well maybe I wanted to burn,”

Michael took a deep breath. _He didn’t mean that. He doesn’t want to die._

_“Me too,” Sobbed a 14-year-old Jeremy._

“Maybe I...” He quieted. Everything did. Michael moved closer on his bruised knees. “Fuck off!” Jeremy yelled, and Michael thought maybe it was at him, so he started to left himself, but what Jeremy said next made him stop and stare at him. “Get out of my fucking head!”

He jolted, as if he’d been shocked, throwing his head up, holding a scowl and tear trails. More tears fell. He paid no attention to Michael, looking up at the ceiling, making Michael even more concerned. _I know he saw me._ Suddenly, Jeremy was looking straight at Michael. But not at him. It was like he could look through Michael. He gulped dryly. _The SQUIP._

“Jeremy...” Michael choked out. Tears started to fall. He knew it was useless to call out his name, or anything, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t sit by and do _nothing_ while his best friend of 12 years was being abused in his own self. Physically as well as mentally. He let a sob escape. “Jeremy!”

Jeremy grit his teeth. “You calm down...” He mumbled, then waited for a few seconds, before yelling again. “Why?! No one is even-!” He stopped and seemed to fix himself on Michael’s own eyes, but didn’t change his expression. Michael tried his best to smile, but fell apart every time. _Can he see me now?_ He kept repeating, trying to look over the boy’s face for answers, but he had none. _Can he see me now?_ They were speechless. Michael took a shaking breath and tried for what seemed like the millionth time to call out to his friend. “Jer-“

He was cut off because the boy in front of him suddenly sprung to life, clinging to Michael’s neck and burying his face in his shoulder, making Michael’s bones feel like they were about to crack. He winced from pain, but as soon as Jeremy tried to pull away because he thought he might have been hurting Michael, Michael pulled him right back. They started crying loudly. A combination of tears of joy and sadness. And a little of fear.

Jeremy hugged tighter. “I want! It out! Of my head!” He said in between sobs. He jolted again. Another shock. Michael could only pull Jeremy closer and rub his back.  

 ** _“He’s not part of the plan,”_** A voice whispered inside his head.

“S-cre-w the p-lan...” Jeremy hissed out loud. He jerked again, yelping in pain. This shock being worse than the first one, making Jeremy numb to his toes. Michael cried out again, pulling Jeremy, somehow, closer, hoping it would protect him. The only thing he could do.

The voice laughed cruelly, dripping with sarcasm. **_“Fine by me if you want to give up on everything you’ve gained so far,”_**

“I d-on’t ca-re!” Jeremy cried, gripping onto Michael like is life depended on it.

Michael was rocking him slowly. “We’ll find you a cure buddy, ok? It’s a computer, we can shut it off, we’ll figure it out. We’re always able to figure it out, ok?” He reassured.

Jeremy nodded slightly. **_“And what,”_** The SQUIP growled, **_“are you going to do when I’m gone? Do you think Christine is going to want to go out with a screw up like you?”_**

“I-I’m a sc-rew up...” Jeremy mumbled into Michael’s neck, agreeing with the SQUIP.

“I don’t think you’re a screw up!” Michael protested.

 ** _“Everything about you is terrible, Jeremy,”_** He hissed.

Jeremy sobbed louder, but agreed. “I’m t-err-ible Mic-hael...”   

“You’re not terrible, you’re awesome! You’re amazing!” Michael laughed nervously, kissing Jeremy’s forehead, which was under his chin.

It chuckled in his ear. **_“Disgusting,”_**

“You’re beautiful and you’re smart and cool. You were always cool. You always will be. And whoever can’t see that can suck a dick...”

**_“He’s lying to you, you know?”_ **

“And you’re funny. You’re very funny. Oh! You sing really well. And you’re laugh is indescribable!”

**_“No one likes you. You don’t even like you. You’re pathetic...”_ **

“When you smile, it’s like you don’t want people to know you’re smiling, but it’s also like you’re telling the whole world. It’s fucking adorable. And it fits you perfectly. And your eyes look like they can hold a million stars, Jere. You’re beautiful. You’re fucking gorgeous on the inside and outside, and it hurts that you don’t know that...”

 ** _“Wow,”_** It chuckled again. Louder. Mockingly. Jeremy felt another shock, but didn’t jump. He pushed away, onto the cupboards, hitting the back of his head on the handle and gasped. His body shook as Michael’s eyes went wide and he grabbed Jeremy by his elbows, to keep his arms down. It whispered, sending shivers down Jeremy’s spine. **_“You really like him, don’t you?”_**  It started laughing again.

“Michael,”

Michael flung forward and hugged Jeremy around his waist. “We’ll turn it off, ok? And it’ll be ok. We’ll do it together,”

The SQUIP clicked his tongue. **_“Pitiful. You really think you have a chance...”_** He chuckled. **_“I’m impressed Jeremy. You had a better chance with Christine. Michael just thinks for you as a friend. I thought you knew that,”_**

“Michael,” Jeremy cried, softer, trying to ignore the SQUIP’s frequent sneers.

Said boy started rubbing circles in his back. “We’ll fix it,”

Jeremy rested his face in the crook of Michael’s neck again, feeling the warmth coming from him. “Micha...” He trailed off.

“Do you want to go to my house? You can sleep there. I’ll work all night, I promise, we’re going to find something,” Michael smiled, feeling the boy sink his weight onto his lap. The grip on his neck was loosening as Jeremy let out a shaking sigh. “Jeremy?” He shook Jeremy lightly. “Jeremy? We’re going to my house. I’m going to steal your car and drive you there. I’ll text your dad,” He bounced his shoulder, making Jeremy slowly lift his head up. Michael smiled and started wiping off his tears. Jeremy smiled, letting Michael lead him to the car. Hand in hand.

The SQUIP shocked him more in the car. Anytime he tried to sleep.

He couldn’t sleep at Michael’s. He cried and screamed with every shock that went through his body, but he smiled anyway, because they had won.

The research had been done. The Mt. Dew Red was gone. Jeremy was in the hospital for a week with a killer headache, but a giant smile on his face.  

The SQUIP was still there, in the back of his mind, waiting. He whispered and mocked, scaring Jeremy. Throwing him into panic attacks or making him lash out in anger.

The damage had been done.

But they had won over all.

Together.

Michael smiled, looking at the sleeping boy in his arms, cuddled in Michael’s jacket that was too baggy on him, but he loved it anyway. Tiny cold sweat beads formed near his golden-brown hair that curled in in complete disorder. His cheeks were tinted pink, as well as his nose, which stood out on his pale face. His pink, soft lips were parted the tinniest bit, letting out a small sigh every minute. The sound was music to Michael’s ears.

He stared at Jeremy Heere, studying the face he fell in love with, and that somehow fell in love with him. Who he had been together with through the toughest times. He was beautiful and smart and cool. He was always very, _very_ funny, and could sing like no one else. Hearing his laugh was always Michael’s favorite part of the day, and seeing his smile _made_ his day. When they were awake, he could look into his eyes forever, and be looking at everything he could have ever wanted. Ever needed.

He held his boyfriend closer, placing a small kiss on top of his head, looking down like he was holding the world. He was holding the world. And he swore to himself, then and there, he would never let go.   


End file.
